


The Rising Sun

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse of Authority, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Unrequited Love, kink meme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-30 00:15:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kink Meme fill: Grantaire reminds Enjolras of his past life As the son of wealthy land owners near the lands of a count, Enjolras goes to school with the much younger brother of the Viscomte in their castle. It does not take long for the nobleman to take a shine to him. Perhaps a little OOC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rising Sun

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for a Kink Meme post on page 18 of the second round of http://makinghugospin.livejournal.com
> 
> Prompt: Enjolras having an early experience where he was sexually assaulted by someone he trusted (maybe a tutor in his teenaged years, or a teacher when he first came to university.) Maybe he even had been crushing on the person before it happened. This colors his feelings about people's admiration for his looks and makes him repulsed by sex (and Grantaire.)
> 
> Suffice to say I ignored the suggested trust abuses and went a little more sinister.
> 
> I put underage because even though consent ages in the time it was set were eleven, it is not eleven now.
> 
> The title is a bit optimistic for the tone of the fic, but Enjolras is phoenix-esque and rises from the ashes all the more bright.
> 
> This has not even been proof read by me, I am only posting it here cause it got to long to be bothered with 9 kink meme posts!

“En-jol-ras!”

* * *

  
 _“En-jol-ras... You can’t hide forever... I’ll find you, I always do,” the voice of Viscomte hit Enjolras as if he had been doused with freezing water. He had not expected him to get so close to soon and now regretted his decision to not try harder to find a better place to hide. These games seemed to be happening with an increased rate of late, which did not fill the young boy with much hope of them decreasing. It is not that he was ungrateful of the attention given to him by the young nobleman, but he just wished the consequences were less... physical._  
  
 _The chest to the left of the door to the pantry he hid in squeaked open, the sound ringing in his ears and making him curl in on himself more inside the barrel he had taken refuge in. He had never hidden in such an obvious place before, and he hoped that the fact of that would be his undoing, until he could sneak back to his rooms. He had even added the extra flair of covering the barrel with a dusty sheet in order to obscure it even more. Confidence was not to be dared though._  
  
 _“Come out, come out wherever you are...” the Viscomte drawled, voice even closer now, though to Enjolras he may as well have been whispering it right into his ear in the pitch darkness of the barrel._  
  
 _The door to the pantry opened and Enjolras shivered, trying his hardest to keep his breathing shallow, lest he be heard. The games were usually over when Enjolras gave himself away by mistake rather than the cunning of the Viscomte at any rate._  
  
 _“So many places to hide yourself, so many places to find you, I do love a hunt,” slow footsteps were approaching now, accompanied with the sounds of sheets being jostled, boxes moved and just once an ominous clang of something metallic hitting the floor._  
  
 _Finally the slow, soft footsteps got close enough that Enjolras could only assume that he was right next to him, and as added testament the sound of a sheet being whisked away was to be heard just above his head. Tracks of light now came through the gaps in the wood of the barrel and through a slit Enjolras could see the side of a man’s leg._  
  
 _With just enough time for him to hear a triumphant laugh before being bathed in light, the lid to the barrel was removed and Enjolras looked up into the face of the Viscomte. The man reached inside and put his arms under Enjolras’ to lift him up and out of his makeshift sanctuary, gently lifting him into the air and up to his eye level. Enjolras just let himself dangle._  
  
 _“Here is my beautiful boy,” he cooed and moved Enjolras closer so he could press his lips to the soft golden hair obscuring his forehead. The smile the man gave was warm and inviting, and Enjolras felt his lips tug up in a return as he the Viscomte shifted Enjolras’ weight to his hip to carry him through the now disserted corridors, his thumb tracing small circles into his back._  
  
 _Once in the Viscomte’s study he was finally placed down on the floor, with the Viscomte sitting before him, just about at eye level now. “My clever boy...” a finger traced down his cheek, “My little brother is so jealous of you... such a pretty clever little thing, making him look foolish. Tell me what you were being taught today,” Enjolras shrunk back from the hand caressing his cheek, but the increased pressure of the hand on his arm made him stop the attempt._  
  
 _“The Vikings,” the boy replied, voice like a song from the grandest choir. A grin broke out on the face of the Viscomte, a tuft of hair falling in front of his one of his eyes as he nodded his head. The Viscomte was still fairly young himself, he could not have been older than five and twenty, but the age difference between the two of them was fairly striking._  
  
 _“No wonder Yves was in a foul mood, he finds history so boring. Do you like history?” the Viscomte asked, stroking along one of Enjolras’ cheek bones, his hand moving with it as he received a hesitant nod, “then let us do history together, angel,” Enjolras nodded again and swallowed knowing what was coming soon, “The Vikings were a fierce people, correct?”_  
  
 _Enjolras nodded looking sheepishly to the ground while doing it, “Let me here you, cherub,” the Viscomte said, gripping the boy’s chin hard and forcing his head up again._  
  
 _“Yes,” Enjolras breathed out, and received another smile._  
  
 _“Good boy, and they took great treasure did they not?”_  
  
 _“Yes...”_  
  
 _“Why did they take treasure?”_  
  
 _“Because it was valuable?”_  
  
 _“Correct, why could they take it?”_  
  
 _“Because they won the battles.”_  
  
 _“So they could take valuable treasure because they were winners?”_  
  
 _“Yes,”_  
  
 _“So winners get treasure for being victorious?”_  
  
 _“...yes.”_  
  
 _A hand moved down to entwine their fingers together, the Viscomte’s eyes moving from Enjolras’ down to his lips, as he sucked in a deep shaking breath._  
  
 _“So victors get the rewards for being victorious?”_  
  
 _“Yes.”_  
  
 _“Did I not win our little game?”_  
  
 _“You did,”_  
  
 _“Do I not get to take some treasure from you then? Do I not get some reward?” Enjolras looked down again and shrugged, shifting his weight from foot to foot, “if those who win get things from those who lose, as shown with the Vikings, do I not get something from you?” Enjolras looked up at the older man with big, doe eyes and nodded._  
  
 _His free hand reached out to balance himself on the Viscomte’s shoulder as he was tugged forwards to stand in between the man’s legs, the hand holding his leading it towards the fastenings of his trousers, “Then reward me.”_

* * *

__  
Fingers clicked in front of Enjolras’ face and broke him out of his reverie. The grinning face of Grantaire met him as he looked up and Enjolras scowled, scraping his chair back against the floor as he moved to get up, collecting papers as he went, “I didn’t think you had the capacity for distraction, fearless leader.”  
  
Enjolras refused to deign that with a response and looked round to try and find Combeferre in the group. They could go over plans for tomorrows protests, use the maps to target areas of the most poor to effectively rally support.  
  
He gave Grantaire a scathing look after locating his guide and shoved past him. Grantaire looked anything but dismayed though, amusement and awe evident in his eyes as their close proximity.  
  
“No need to play hard to get,” he chorused at Enjolras’ retreating back, with a mocking laugh.  
  
 _The time in the church was Enjolras’ favourite time, for many reasons. It was the best place to think, because of the silence and there were usually plenty of people there, at least when he was there. He often had books with him to read and work he had been set to finish, or redo to the greater standard he set himself. Anything to keep him busy. It was also the place the Viscomte, or Arnaud, as he had been told to call him, frequented least._  
  
It was not uncommon for Enjolras to forget himself and the time when he was working. He got so engrossed in his studies and the improvement of him mind that everything else got drowned out. He did not even look up when he heard the vicar was retiring for the night. He did hear however the click as the door to the chapel locked.  
  
He spun his head round in the direction of the door but saw no one there. He had just about convinced himself he had made the sound up when the light dimmed to his right, a couple of them had been blown out, the smoke from the wick coming forward into the remaining light of the candles to his left.  
  
Enjolras was on his feet in a second and backing away from the gloom and the tall figure emerging from it, but he could not hide the shudder that went through him when as the face of Arnaud became half lit. A smirk pulling at one side of his mouth.  
  
The Viscomte raised a hand and crooked a finger, beckoning Enjolras over to him and into the dark, a frown marring his otherwise comely face at the small shake he received. “No need to play hard to get, love,” his voice was nearly a whisper but he may as well have shouted it across the silence, “I’ll win in the end, as always,” the taller man took a step into the light, the candles above making a bright halo in his otherwise dark hair, the irony was not lost on Enjolras.  
  
For every step forwards Arnaud took, Enjolras took one back, until his back was against the wall of the chapel, right next to a statue of the virgin. He doubted she’d be giving her fellows any immediate support, but that didn’t stop a silent prayer to her going through the blond boys mind.  
  
“Ancient Greece? We are moving onto tricky things now, are we not. You can learn so much from them. I know I did,” the man kept the book he had picked up in hand and began walking towards Enjolras again.  
  
“You’re so beautiful... my beautiful eromenos,” another small smile crept its way across his as he approached, Enjolras moving round now sideways to try and keep his distance, “these little games do make it fun, I do so love you when you are coy,” the talk of love made Enjolras want to scoff, even though he was still young, he knew this wasn’t love, despite what the Viscomte said, he had been beginning to hear talk of typical relationships and marriage and purity and he knew that what they did went against anything he had thus far heard, what Arnaud did was wrong, it was abusive and he was starting to see how abusive it was. Not that he could say anything about it.  
  
They danced round eachother in a circle for a little while longer, until Enjolras was nearly obscured in the shadows, “Every game must have an end though, YoungApollo, _” Arnaud said with a sigh that contradicted the growing smirk on his face, Enjolras was going to speak them, when the book he had forgot the man was holding was thrown in his direction in a flurry of pages. Enjolras flinched  back as the book his him, distracted by its movement through the air. Too distracted to see Arnaud lunge at him until the bigger, stronger, older man was on him, forcing him back fully into the darkness._  
  
 _Enjolras didn’t grant him a shriek as he was slammed back into the wall, lips descending on his neck as he fought to push the nobleman off of him. His smaller frame was next to powerless and off balance, and he could barely even move his arms against the strong chest that kept him in place, let alone push him away._  
  
 _He jerked his head away from the man’s lips, getting some space between them and his neck, but the reprieve was short lived. The hungry mouth followed him, and nipped lightly at his soft skin, a tongue coming out to sooth the area._  
  
 _“Game over, and I win again... time for my spoils,” he took hold of one of Enjolras’ shaking arms and pushed him gently back into the light, “I want to see my prize,” he commented unnecessary as Enjolras tried to regain his balance, not managing in time before he was pushed back against the Alter, the edge eating into the small of his back before he was hoisted up to sit against it._  
  
 _“I would have preferred this to be in my rooms, but you’ve been so distant lately... I was starting to worry thinking my blue eyed boy was avoiding me, but now I see it has just been one long game to find you. You almost won this time, but I will always find you... I am drawn to you, like a pilgrim, like a worshipper of Apollo, like an erastes for his pais,” all the while as he spoke he held Enjolras down, moving to grip his hands in just one of his larger ones, using the other one to remove the younger boys breeches._  
  
 _“Yves said it was your birthday last week, that you turned thirteen. You should have said something, we could have celebrated,” Enjolras knew he was not being talked to, but talked at, a distraction as the man got on with his work, but he could not help that the words reached him and made him tremble, “Six years you have been here in my care and I never knew when your birthday was, I am almost ashamed of myself... but I shall make it up to you now... make it up to us, make you mine.”_  
  
 _That had been what Enjolras had been dreading, that final step that he had been hearing of, he knew that had not happened to him yet, he had been hoping it would never come, but since when had hopes got anything done._  
  
 _“Such a beautiful boy,” the Viscomte said, moving between Enjolras’ bare, quivering thighs, “my beautiful boy.”_  
  
 _“I don’t want to be beautiful,” Enjolras hissed, feeling all the more weak from the effect the man’s ministrations were having on him, perhaps he did want it. No. “I hate it!” he raised his voice and was silenced with a soft kiss._  
  
 _“You would not think that if you were ugly. You would not say that if you saw yourself the way the world does... but you cannot because you are so beautiful. So beautiful I must have you. I must possess it. It’s mine!” Arnaud whispered harshly, kissing him in between comments. Soon he was done with the preparations and slowly entered him, holding both of Enjolras’ hands tightly as the young boy squeezed through the pain and spread wide along the length of the alter, betrayed by his body and it’s independent reactions to what his mind wanted._  
  
 _He closed his eyes as his body was worshipped and used, despairing when the pain of penetration gave way to pleasure and release, cursing himself as he moved against the man, seeking out the shock of pleasure that came with each of the man’s thrusts, each one accompanied with “perfect” and “beautiful” and “mine” and punctuated with a kiss._  
  
 _By the end he was exhausted, too much to move and too much to push the man away as he was folded up into those strong arms after being redressed. He was carried in Arnaud’s arms to the master bedroom, stripped and laid out on the bed as the man got in next to him and encircled his narrow waist._  
  
 _“My beautiful boy...” and then Enjolras started to cry, finding comfort in the soft words of the nobleman and in the strength of his chest. Crying himself to sleep in the arms of his abuser, as the man smoothed his hair and kissed his head and stroked his back, he had never felt uglier._

* * *

 __  
Enjolras looked over his shoulder briefly at Grantaire, who had the wine bottle in hand and shook his head, catching Grantaire’s grin as he spoke in a teasing lilt so that only he could hear.  
  
“You love me really, despite what you want me to think...”  
  
 _“tell me you love me, angel,”  
  
_ “You’re just too proud to admit it,”  
  
 _“Admit it, you enjoy our time together... you enjoy me loving you.”  
  
_ “But that is fine, I can wait until you discover what you try to deny,”  
  
 _“Deny me all you want, I can feel what this does to you, you expect me to believe you do not want this when I can feel how much you do,”  
  
_ “I’ll wait for you forever, I’d do anything for you, Apollo”  
  
 _“You will come to me yourself one day, but I am willing to wait for you forever, Apollo.”_  
  
“My sun...”  
  
“Shut up! You disgust me!” Enjolras yelled and had not noticed how close Grantaire was until he felt the hand on his chest, the rest of the Musain had disappeared now. A tremble went through him that he knew Grantaire would feel, he staggered back a step, breaking the contact, and feeling a nervous sweat break and in a second he was a victim again, as he had promised himself he would never be again. No longer was he the champion of those who lived in injustice, he was reduced again to an object.

He whirled round and found Combeferre beside him, taking his elbow and leading him away down the stairs murmuring something to Courfeyrac about meeting again tomorrow and how enough had been done and how tensions were running high. Faithful Combeferre who had listened to Enjolras’ one and only retelling with silent tears and a look of greater respect for the man who had suffered so much. Combeferre really was the guide, because without him Enjolras would have been more than lost. He luckily missed the sympathetic look that had guided to a very confused and hurt Grantaire who could do nothing but watch as night fell and Enjolras was lead out.

* * *

  
 _“Paris, eh?” Arnaud said with a shake of his head, running a hand down Enjolras’ naked side, “Isn’t sixteen a little young to be leaving home to the horrors of the city? Will you not stay here with me? Anything you want is yours.”_  
  
 _“I want to get used to the place before I begin University there,” Enjolras explained in a hoarse whisper._  
  
 _Arnaud grabbed his hands and raised them to his mouth, missing the shiver that went through the others body and the renewed fire in his eyes since he had been offered an escape from a life as the Viscomte’s brother’s school companion._  
  
 _“I shall miss you, but I know you will return. Come back to me. Just know that without you my world will be darkness, because you are my sun.”_

**Author's Note:**

> The boy called Yves is the National guardsman who shoots Grantaire and Enjolras or gives the order to in the film, just cause I read that he cries cause he knew Enjolras growing up. I thought it was kinda nice that way and that like a NG captain was an acceptable occupation for a second or third son.


End file.
